Inhumations Educations and EyeRollings
by duchess-susan
Summary: A sequel to 'Pokers, Swords and Lifetimers', but can be read seperately.
1. Chapter 1

**None of the characters of, or the Discworld itself belong to me. There, now that is over with, thank you to all the people who asked/threatened for a sequel to 'Pokers, Swords and Lifetimers'. She Who Shines-this is going to be epic (insert manic laughter here). **

Inhumations, Educations and Eye-Rollings

The world span. Susan raised a hand gingerly to her head and found blood. Someone slid an arm around her waist and forced her to sit down on the nearest chair. A man with blonde curls and mismatched eyes knelt before her looking concerned.

'I really thought you would move Susan.'

'Well I didn't.' She was having difficulty focusing on Teatime. Her eyes had decided not to be affiliated with her brain.

'I'm sorry I hit you so hard, but unless it's dangerous it's no fun.' He glanced ruefully at the poker in his hand.

'Why you associate violence with fun?' _And why don't I know better than to associate love with a man who just hit me with a piece of fireside equipment? I mean I know love is blind, but it can't be completely immune to pain can it?_

'Not violence. Danger.'

Susan rolled her eyes.

'Ah, you're feeling better.' Teatime smiled. His smile was as bright and pretty as the sound his mind must have made as it cracked, as the mirror shards of his mind.

Susan looked around the room. Various ornaments had been smashed. Furniture had been knocked over. The poker she had wielded was stuck in the wall. Possibly accepting Teatime's challenge to a duel had been a bad idea. Her room was a disaster zone, she had a head wound and the assassin was smiling. _Wasn't it worth it to see him smile again? _And, although she would never admit it to anyone else, it was. Teatime had been very depressed since he had realised he couldn't carry on being an assassin. There were several reasons. Susan would kill him, but then this was hardly unusual. The real obstacle was that the Assassin's Guild wouldn't have him back. An undead assassin who was not a vampire or a zombie but something _else, _was worrying_. _Even more worrying was the thought that they might have Teatime as a member again. Once had been more than enough. _Teatime. _His name was whispered by staff and students alike as the only person they feared besides Sam Vimes. This hardly stopped him. If Susan wasn't around he would have made lots of new _friends _proving he was still an assassin. But Susan changed everything.

Teatime missed inhuming. He missed the quiet thrill of taking life for payment and the satisfaction of a job well done. Susan had not dared suggest he take up another career. She knew him too well. He would find a way of inserting some of his extraordinary talents, and, of course, his knife, into the most innocent of jobs. Death had offered him work as an apprentice but Susan had refused on his behalf-Teatime would take far too much pleasure in being Death, the power would make him too dangerous and besides it would be weirdly like her mother and father.

Susan sighed. The only thing more frightening than Teatime the assassin was Teatime when bored. When he was bored he would sulk and play games with his knife (although he did this when occupied as well) and find new ways of torturing physics.

Teatime was looking at her curiously. 'What are you thinking?'

_That you should really be dead. That the only reason you're not is me. That, when you are excited, your mismatched eyes aren't so noticeable. That you look wonderful in black. That you focus your attention span so much it only lasts seconds, but they are INTENSE seconds. _But she couldn't say any of that.

'I should have beat you. The only reason you managed to hit me with that poker was because you cheated.'

'How did I cheat?' Teatime's lip curled in a way that proclaimed 'petulant child'.

'You threw my poker into the wall!'

'You allowed me to grab it.'

'I was trying to stab you at the time.'

'Then what I did was self-defence.'

He did have a point. After all the poker had been the instrument of his demise. Somehow Susan could only imagine him dead these days. Never, since that Hogswatch, had she actually managed to murder him. This was not due to lack of effort. The thing about Teatime was that even as you thought you had beat him he was learning how you worked, how you thought, how you fought, so he could evade you. He never wanted complete defeat, because that would be boring. He just wanted to evade and laugh, and then allow you _just _enough hope that you would try again.

He liked people who made an effort for him. And Susan always went that extra mile to show him exactly how much she wished to best him. She was so much _fun. _He could only hope that she found him as enjoyable.

'Susan I was thinking about something.'

'What?' The assassin could never just _say _what he wanted to. He always had to lead up to it, to demand attention before he had said anything worthy of it. Susan found it exasperating.

'When I was revived, and when we challenged the Afterlife, and then afterwards in Death's Domain I was witnessing your world.'

'Teatime that was NOT my world. That was just a series of events my grandfather set in motion in a bid to replicate some romantic novel. This is my life. On the Disc. Being normal.'

Teatime gave her a funny look. 'Normal?' Before Susan could start an argument he spoke again, 'well, whatever you want to believe I saw a part of your existence. but you saw none of mine. Would you like to? I'd be only too happy to show you what my life was like before...pokers became involved.' Teatime was smiling, and if Susan didn't know better she would say he seemed slightly anxious.

'Teatime I do not want to witness any inhumations. Or knife games. Or theorize about the best method for killing Clinkerbell. Or participate in a game of how-many-people-can-I-psychologically-scar-in-hour.'

Teatime did his best to look hurt. 'I don't settle for _just _psychological scars. I could show you other things. I thought that was the kind of thing friends do. And I already know how I would inhume Clinkerbell, I devised a rather elegant meth-'

'I don't want to know!'

Teatime's mouth opened in shock. 'But it's so interesting.' He saw the look on Susan's face and, with unusual tact, changed the subject. 'What if I showed you how it felt to prowl the streets of the city in the dead of night and see the stars shining so high above?'

Susan almost thought he was being romantic until he carried on.

'So high you wonder if anyone could ever find a way to bring them close enough to inhume.'

'_You look at the night sky and you want to inhume it?' _

'Can you think of anything better to think of when you look at it? And I must correct you. I don't think of how to inhume the whole sky. Just parts of it, one star at a time.' He really did seem to believe this was a reasonable and logical response to the sight of heaven's diamond studded vault.

'You have a one-track mind, Jonathan Teatime.'

'There are at least two tracks. I have ascertained that much. Because I can think about you _and _inhumation at the same time.'

Susan was becoming more and more astounded.

'You think about inhuming me?'

'Oh, fairly often, but what I meant then was that I can think both of you and also of an unrelated commission at the same time.'

'That's not really much better. So when you think of me you are also thinking of _killing _people?' _Why do I develop feelings for the mad ones?_

'Susan I have corrected you repeatedly. I advise you to _learn. _I do not kill, murder or slay, I inhume.'

'Oh that makes all the difference.'

He beamed. 'Glad to see you're getting the hang of this.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 at last!**

Teatime was very good at tidying up. The mess from the poker fight had lasted a good five seconds under his blurred onslaught.

Susan had sat on her bed and watched him whirl around the room. He left the poker protruding from the wall until last. When he came to it he stared up at it.

'Susan are you sure you want me to remove this from the wall?'

'Why would I want it to stay there?'

'As a memento to our blissful duels perhaps?' Teatime was grinning the special grin that Susan recognized as the how-irritating-can-I-be-before-you-attack-me smile.

'Our fights aren't blissful.' Susan lifted a hand to her head. 'Just painful.'

'Not if you evade the poker.' Teatime was staring at the poker again. 'The thing is if I get that down you might do something dreadful. Again.'

'You know you love it when I attempt to do dreadful things.' Susan knew this to be true. The last time she had made a heartfelt attempt at killing him he had _danced _with joy.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. 'Susan it would be unoriginal, perhaps even _boring _to kill me the same way twice. Pokers suffice for duels and fights I know I'll win but I am not having cheap iron shatter my ribs again. Not just for the sake of poetic justice.'

'Aren't pokers significant in our relationship?' _Some couples have a song but when it's my turn I have to have fireside equipment. _Susan tried to creep up behind him unnoticed, but when she was a foot away he swivelled to face her, wrapping his arms around her.

'Of course.' He was whispering in her ear, so that the words hovered on the cusp of audibility. 'Did you think about what I said earlier? I really would like to share my experiences of life with someone.'

Susan sighed. She could tell he wasn't going to let this one go. 'If you promise that you will not harm any living, undead or anthropomorphic soul I guess I could spare a few hours.'

'It will be an education, I promise.' Teatime appeared to concentrate for a moment and then they were standing alone on a rather non-descript rooftop.

'Why are we here?' The stars glowed above Susan, grateful they were very, very far away from Teatime, but also slightly wary. If anyone would do something like inhuming stars, Teatime would.

'This is the roof of the Assassin's Guild. I used to come up here to get away from the _other students.' _He sounded offended that any other assassin's should be considered worth training. 'Just to think.'

'About inhumation.' Susan was a master of sarcasm. And pointing out the blindingly obvious.

'Yes. And other things, sometimes.'

'Other things? I realise I might not like the answer, but what other things?'

Teatime fixed his disconcerting gaze on her. 'Other things like why other people let themselves be distracted, by families and lovers and friends. Why they couldn't focus like I did.'

'Teatime you don't really focus in the conventional sense of the word.'

'Of course I do. I just focus purely and completely, without distraction.'

There was no point in arguing. Susan gave up, for once. After all what he was saying was true.

She sighed. 'I need a drink. I'm going to Biers.'

Teatime raised an eyebrow. 'And how do you propose getting down from the roof? In a guild of assassins everything spells death for a stranger. I know for a fact there are at least three dozen traps you could fall prey to just getting back to ground level.'

'I'll manage.'

'Why are you so stubborn? Just ask me and I'll help.'

_Damn. He knows I can't ask him now he's said that. That would be giving in._

He smiled. 'Susan it really isn't very hard. Politeness is always a desirable trait, in any situation. This guild taught me that.'

_Yeah but they taught you that killing for money was honourable and in no way associated with murdering. Only unskilled people murder. Trained people inhume. The only difference is that the Watch doesn't arrest you. _What she said aloud was, 'Fine. I'll be polite. Goodbye TEAtime.'

She stepped off the roof. _I really hope I have him figured out..._

He appeared beside her, took her hand, and floated down with her until their feet touched the ground.

'It's Teh-ah Tim-eh. Please refrain from mispronouncing it. It's discourteous.'

'Hah! You saved me.' _I win. _Susan felt a surge of triumph-finally she was learning to predict Teatime's actions.

Susan had the funny feeling that he must have read that thought in her eyes.

'Yes. Only because of your rarity value of course.' He was holding his knife so that it caught the moonlight. 'You are the only person who has ever managed to corrupt my concentration, you see. As such it would probably be far less trouble to kill you now.' He looked at her with his head on one side. 'But then I would have no enemies _and _no friends. I would hate for that to be the case. Again.'

The knife disappeared. He smiled brightly. 'Time to go to Biers perhaps.'


	3. Chapter 3

Teatime and Susan entered Biers and were immediately both the scariest and most normal looking people there. This paradox can be quite easily explained by pointing out that they _are_ Teatime and Susan. 

Susan could hear whispering, though she prayed that Teatime couldn't.

'_That's that psycho assassin Teatime. See the weird eye?'_

'_Shut up! If he survived the Guild school how well do you think he can hear?'_

'Well enough, gentleman.' Teatime shook his head sadly at Susan. 'People _always_ call me a psychopath, when _clearly_ sociopath is a more appropriate term. I think I should make a _pointed _correction.' He was absentmindedly playing with his knife.

'No.'

'But everyone loves to be corrected.' He said it innocently.

'You really love the fine detail, don't you? The difference between a psychopath and a sociopath is minimal.'

'But important.' The knife disappeared.

Susan rolled her eyes. 'Two gin and tonics.' This was to Igor the barman.

'Why did you order me a gin and tonic? You don't know what I drink.'

'Who said it was for you? Anyone would need a couple of drinks after spending time with you. The oh god of hangovers would despise you for the amount of drinking you engender in me.'

'He would hate you for drinking it. Anyway you don't often drink in my presence.'

_Only because it would be terribly stupid to face you inebriated._

Susan was saved by the arrival of their drinks. Teatime just looked at his distrustfully. Susan sighed. She guessed that years in a guild of assassins had made him wary.

'Teatime it's not going to be poisoned.'

'Old habits die hard.' He smiled. 'I don't drink, Susan.'

'Then start now.' Susan was very certain that she was not going to drink until Teatime did.

'Why?'

'Because you might be less violent drunk.' Susan felt this was logical. Most people got aggressive when they drank, but Teatime was already so vicious he should be approaching pacifism in a new direction when intoxicated. At the very least his ability to ignore physics at will should be inconvenienced.

Teatime shrugged. 'Cheers. That's what people say in situations like these, isn't it?'

***

Teatime and Susan were wandering the streets of Ankh-Morpork.

'Susan?'

'Yes.'

'How much did I drink in that bar?'

'Enough.'

'Only...'

Susan watched Teatime try to do his signature trick, of blurring with speed as he moved from place to place. All that happened was that he rapidly and blurrily progressed from vertical to horizontal.

She picked him up. Among the assassin's qualities appeared to be an inability to handle his drink. Okay, so admittedly she was a little tipsy but she could still _walk. _At this point her rather unsteady train of thought was derailed by the sound of Teatime's laughter.

'Susan, you know what?'

'What?'

'I don't think I'll be drinking again. Physics appears to be taking advantage of me.'

'Really.' They came to the front door, which Susan unlocked. As they progressed into the hall Teatime lurched over to the umbrella stand. He twirled around triumphantly, brandishing an umbrella. Susan couldn't help but laugh.

'That's not a poker Teatime.'

'Oh.' He looked disappointed and dropped it. 'I think I prefer sobriety.'

Susan raised an eyebrow. Apparently alcohol didn't affect Teatime's articulacy. She strode into her room. Teatime followed, unsteadily.

**Review. Please.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Not the best thing I have ever written-just ALOT of banter, but enjoy anyway.**

Susan awoke to the sound of metal clinking against china. She sat up. Teatime was sitting in an armchair stirring a cup of coffee. He looked annoyingly fresh faced. Clearly he didn't suffer from hangovers.

'How are you?' He smiled. 'I shan't be going to a bar with you again; I fear you took the opportunity to make a fool of me.'

'You did that all by yourself. Did you sleep on the _floor _last night?'

'I'm afraid so. Gin seems to have an adverse effect on me.'

Susan rolled her eyes. Surely he should be hung over-Bilious really would hate him.

'Why do you live here?'

That was Teatime-always asking questions, always wanting to know how things worked so he could find the most intricate ways of breaking them.

'Because it's normal. Because I can go whole hours without being reminded of who I am. Because it's reasonably near Biers.'

'Ah. Why do you desire normality? Surely you must know it is a rather tedious state of being.'

'And you're speaking from experience I suppose.'

'That was cheap.' Teatime was pouting now.

Susan sighed. 'Sorry.' The worst thing was that she had to make an effort to sound insincere. She really was sorry that she had said that, because she knew how it felt to be the odd one out. If the whole of humanity was being picked for teams it would be her and Teatime left until last, she knew that much.

Teatime had taken advantage of her few seconds of contemplation, striding up and down the room restlessly. He paused to pick up the thornless black rose he had given to her, only weeks previously, then idly took his knife to it, removing each petal individually. She watched as he allowed the petals to drift to the floor, then looked up at her.

'Where are my manners?' Within a second the carpet was free of the black petals and Teatime was standing in front of her. 'Can we go find the Afterlife again? Or do something else involving anthropomorphic personifications? I'm afraid I may get bored if you go and read _another _book.' His voice had a childish, pleading quality to it.

'No. You almost got...unrevived when we met the Afterlife last time, and besides grandfather really was very angry that Death and the Afterlife were bought together again after all this time.'

'So? He's not the only one. Hogfather?'

'NO.'

'Soul Cake Duck?'

'Not a big talker, Teatime.'

'Fate?'

'You've cheated him too many times. He'd probably fight back.'

'Brilliant!'

'I'm not sure you understand me. I meant don't push your luck.'

'Why, will it push itself?' He saw her face. 'How about Old Man Trouble?'

'Definitely not. Have you any idea how _unique _he has become? People who witness him tend to be removed with shovels.'

'Hmmm, you might be right about that one.' His face lit up. 'What about Sam Vimes? The Guild have set his price at a million dollars. Apparently he is _very impolite._' He held out a hand. 'You and me, Susan. Against the world.'

She slapped his hand away. 'I'd prefer not to inhume the entire Disc, thank you very much.'

Teatime looked shocked. 'Not the whole Disc. Only those on it who people would be willing to pay to have inhumed. That is what seperates assassins from murderers.' He appeared to consider this for a moment. 'That and the large amounts of money, of course.'

Susan sighed. Teatime really couldn't change. Even if he _tried _not to be an assassin he would still manage to somehow remain the essence of assassination.

'Besides which I don't want to fight the whole Disc. I just want to be a part of life for a while. You are probably unique amongst men for honestly wanting to inhume every living, undead or unreal creature on the planet.'

He beamed. 'So my attitude is idiosyncratic then? Thank you.' He appeared sincere.

'Yes Teatime. Yes, I can safely say you are unique. Unique isn't a synonym for good though.' Sarcastic embellished her words.

'No, I suppose it isn't. Unique is far better. After all we are both unique, and that is less common than mere goodness. Quite a lot of people are good, but it requires _so _little effort, whereas to be completely individual you have to either try hard consistently or bear certain traits that handicap you in other areas.'

Susan tried to evict his little speech from her mind-it was the kind of tenant that demolishes the furniture and gets arrested every other Friday. She really couldn't see any point in trying to argue that morality was superior to uniqueness with Teatime-he didn't understand the an argument _existed_. She also had a sneaking suspicion that this was revenge for the gin.

'If that is something you find solace in then believe it.'

'I shall.'

'Fine. Now isn't it time that you left.' She gave a meaningful glance to the poker still in the wall.

'Why? I have nothing else to do and I would hate to be _bored. _If my punishment for staying involves the poker I shall enjoy watching you fetch it down.' His facial expression was similar to that of a close friend when they tell you _exactly _what you did with a pot plant, a piece of string and a cocktail glass last night at a party you have no memory of attending, but know with black certainty that you did. And the black gets tinged with the red of embarrassment when you remember what you did as an _encore. _It was the same knowing grin, taking advantage of the receipiants ignorance, and mugging their sense of humour for good measure.

Susan glared. She was _not _going to try doing something stupid to get the poker down. She wasn't.

Five seconds later she had hold of the poker, but her feet were hovering a fair distance above the floor. Teatime was laughing, with that _irritating _boyish chime to it that only he could manage. She swore as her grip slipped and she landed on the floor. Looking up she saw the poker come free of the wall, and tumble down towards her. Gravity _liked _the poker, almost as much as it liked people falling over. Susan realised the poker was going to be very painful when it landed, and just had time to flinch...

Before Teatime snatched it from the air. 'That, Susan, could have been dangerous. Really, you must consider _everything _before you decide upon a course of action.'

Susan was really getting irritated now. Somehow she just couldn't seem to shake off the assassin, and she knew that if she was honest she didn't really want to. He made her seem _normal. _And, for now, that made him special enough to keep around. Even if it meant taking him with her into Death's Domain once more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Well, it's about time that Death made his appearance so here he is...**

Death was happy, although this was hard to tell from appearances. The trouble with being a skeleton was that facial expressions were rather limited. Death had, however, out of sheer effort and stubbornness, cultivated a kind of emotional aura, unseen but definitely felt by those around him. Albert had disapproved of this, until he realised how much easier a servant's life is when they can read their master's mood and _know _when the subject of pay rises and time off is likely to provoke a negative response.

So, this is Death, the Grim Reaper, the Ultimate Leveller. A skeleton in a black robe, all shiny white bone and movement without muscles.

And he is sitting at a chess board. Being happy, but confused.

ALBERT I DON'T UNDERSTAND THIS AT ALL.

'Neither do I. Chess was never really my kind of game. You can't bet on it properly. Cripple Mister Onion, now there's a game I can-'

BUT I WANTED TO UNDERSTAND CHESS.

'Well perhaps learning to play with someone who understood the rules is a good idea.'

WHY DO KNIGHTS MOVE IN SUCH A STRANGE WAY? NORMALLY THEY JUST RUSH STRAIGHT AT EVERYTHING WITH THEIR SWORD READY. THEY DON'T _THINK. _THAT'S WHY I MEET SO MANY OF THEM WHO HAVE JUST BEEN KILLED RATHER IGNOBLY.

'Well, that's life, master. Or death, begging your pardon.'

AT LEAST THE QUEENS MOVE IN THE APPROPRIATE FASHION. WE ALL KNOW THE KINGS ARE JUST THERE TO BE NAGGED BY THEIR WIVES. WOMEN GENERALLY START LESS WARS. IMAGINE IF THE WORLD WAS _ACTUALLY _RULED BY KINGS? WITH NO QUEENS TO TELL THEM TO APOLOGISE TO THE NEIGHBOURING COUNTRY AND RETURN THE DAMN LAWNMOWER.

Albert couldn't comment. His experience of women was minimal, due to wizardry in general, and his personal hygiene in particular.

ANYWAY THE PAWNS ARE RATHER PATHETIC PIECES. WHY DON'T THE OTHERS JUST LEAVE THEM OUT OF IT. THE POWERFUL SACRIFICING THE WEAK IN GAMES AS WELL AS REALITY IS RATHER DISTASTEFUL. WHY NOT SAY WELL DONE, NOW DON'T WORRY WE WILL HANDLE IT FROM NOW ON, GO HOME TO THE FAMILY AND DON'T COME BACK UNLESS YOU ARE ROYALTY?

Albert looked skyward in an attempt to gather heavenly reinforcements to help explain. He then looked down, in the hope that hell would be more responsive. When neither angel nor demon appeared he rolled his eyes. Deities. You just couldn't rely on them in a tight spot. 'Look master, it's just a game, it ain't _real, _and the pieces don't have family-'

THE KING HAS HIS QUEEN.

'Just put me out of my misery now.'

Death looked hurt. I'M ONLY TRYING TO LEARN. TO GET AN EDUCATION. IN BEING HUMAN. YOU COULD BE MORE SUPPORTIVE. ANYWAY I'VE INVITED SUSAN ROUND, SO SHE CAN EXPLAIN IT ALL TO ME.

On cue Susan and Teatime entered the living room.

'Grandfather, are you trying to learn how to play chess again?'

I MIGHT BE. I COULD USE SOMEONE ELSE OTHER THAN ALBERT TO PLAY AGAINST THOUGH.

Susan had been down this road before. She had once spent several afternoons trying to teach Death to play in vain, and was thinking of a tactful excuse when Teatime interrupted.

'I'll play.' Teatime volunteered cheerfully.

'Do you even know the rules?' Susan had to ask.

'They should be easy enough to learn.'

'Oh dear.' Susan was aware that Albert had left the room in case he got involved in another game. She decided to follow. Swiftly.

Upon entering the hallway of Death, she found Albert, looking furtive and shifty, although, this being Albert, that was his normal look. He went through life with the constant expression of a thief trying to hide the Disc's biggest diamond in his back pocket and failing.

'I don't like this.'

'What are you referring to Albert?'

'Chess! And that lad in black.'

'I can't see what's so objectionable about chess.' Susan carefully avoided Albert's other complaint.

'He's not supposed to think like that. It's not...authoritive enough, and he's the ultimate authority. He should just be Death, and be happy with that. I mean, yes he's a nice guy, heart in the right place, should he have one, but trying to adapt, trying to be human...It's not right.' Albert gave her an odd look. 'And I could just about handle that until your creepy man turned up talking like a child who's swallowed a dictionary and taken elocution lessons.'

Susan rolled her eyes. 'He's not _my _man. He's just, well, someone. And if grandfather wants to try and be personable then that is his business, not mine and certainly not yours.'

'That's my point, see. He _is not _a person, and every attempt at being one leads to disaster. If the assassin isn't your man then what, begging your pardon, is he doing here? And if you want proof that Death's attempts at humanity are catastrophic then you need look no further. I mean you and young pin-eye, that was his idea.'

'It's only ever catastrophic when we find pokers, okay?' _Damn, I just admitted it, _she thought. 'And you shouldn't call him pin-eye or-'

'Or young pin-eye will make an old pin-eye out of _you.' _Teatime had appeared silently and Susan would have sworn he wasn't there a minute ago. 'Susan, I have mastered the game, but Death says he would appreciate an opponent who used more than a dozen moves to win, so I thought you could help.' His gaze flickered from Susan to Albert, and morphed as it did so from a smile to a glare. Albert scuttled off. Teatime would have followed if Susan hadn't grabbed his wrist.

'Teatime, you can't hurt him. He's an antique, and grandfather insists he's a valuable one, at that. I can't face explaining that you slaughtered his manservant because of a childish remark.'

Teatime pouted. 'I couldn't _inhume _him unless you paid me to. I don't suppose you have tuppence on you? That would seem to be the appropriate rate, as he seems hardly a _challenge, _especially when Death would be engaged elsewhere. And he's so _old, _his heart would probably give out before I could touch him.' Something in the inflection of the last sentence indicated that this would be a deep disappointment, and a great shame.

'NO. Look, as you can't be trusted why don't you and grandfather play as a team against me.'

'I don't need to be on a _team.'_

'How would you know? You've never been on a team, have you? Or played chess against me.' She towed him into the room before he could protest anymore.

Half an hour after that Death left them to their game. He felt rather the gooseberry, or at least knew that was how he should feel, and watching them argue and implement complex strategies to ensure the failure of the other was a bit boring. He found Albert cowering over the stove in the kitchen (it should not be possible to cower _over _something but Jonathan Teatime could inspire that kind of dread, empowering others to defy physics, like he himself. Just in different ways).

WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

'Trying to avoid a torture involving pins.'

AH. CARRY ON.


	6. Chapter 6

**I know it's been a while, my only plea is that I had writers block and had to go and attempt writing a Watch fanfic to get rid of it. Anyway, chapter 6 is here and I'm sorry I kept you waiting-beware, Teatime got a bit out of hand. R&R, please.**

After having played several games of chess, in which Susan was surprised to find herself struggling to win, they finally stopped. It was only then that Susan realised that Death had left the room much earlier.

'That was such _fun, _Susan. Why don't we have another game?'

'I think it would be a better idea to find grandfather. I didn't even notice he'd left.'

'Was that because I was such diverting company?' Teatime appeared to be asking a genuine question. He really believed it was possible for his presence to be a source of pleasurable distraction. Susan wasn't going to consider the possibility that he could be right.

'No, it was because I was afraid of taking my eyes off you in case you started "inhuming" my pieces.'

'Chess is so much easier when you think of it as a hypothetical exercise in tactical assassination.' Teatime seemed extremely cheerful. 'And I had to keep an eye on _you. _You kept glancing towards the fireplace. You weren't considering a certain metallic object, were you?' He grinned.

_Yes. _'No.'

'Oh.' Disappointment tinged the syllable.

'Are you trying to tell me that you would _like _me to think about killing you?' Susan was sure she would never understand Jonathan Teatime.

'As you refuse to become an assassin and inhume, then I suppose that killing would have to be a second best, yes.'

Susan was speechless.

Teatime saw the look on her face. 'If we didn't keep trying to kill or inhume each other then something dreadful would probably happen. Great A'Tuin would die, or the Ice Giants would break free, or _something. _Besides it makes things so _interesting _and you wouldn't like to see me bored.'

Susan had to concede that boredom was probably the only thing that could make Teatime worse. If he got bored he would probably alleviate his boredom by devising new ways to inhume things that should be uninhumeable. Like dimensions or atoms. Even now he was playing with his knife as he spoke. As she watched he twisted it in a way that made it reflect and refract the light in a strange way, that caused his glass eye to develop an odd purple shine and made her _very _nervous. He seemed to sense her nerves, because he glanced up sharply and, without any time seeming to have passed at all, was leaning across the chess board with his knife just _caressing _her neck. It was almost tender, the way he stroked her skin with the cold metal. Susan noted that he had not disturbed a single chess piece. Although he probably compensated for this by being so disturbed himself.

'Susan do you think that I would cut your throat right now?'

'Yes.' _That was the easiest question I ever answered._

He frowned. 'But I don't think I would, you see. Because that would be _messy _and _inelegant. _And I must learn.'

Susan rolled her eyes.

Teatime carried on. 'And, if you remember, you are _still _to interesting for me to inhume. It's so strange, I've never met or even heard of anyone I couldn't attempt to inhume before I met you. Nor had I consider pokers as an effective weapon. The poker is mightier than the sword, Susan. You taught me that.'

He was doing his favourite trick now, whispering into her ear, both to alarm her, and also to make her struggle to hear. She knew he enjoyed the fact that she knew that he knew that she was actually _trying _to hear his words. As though they meant something. As though he meant something. She knew he could see her getting more and more infuriated by him. She knew what he was though. He was a devil wearing the guise of an angel. Because it made the things he did that little bit more devilish, and added a new dimension of horror. If he looked like the average thug the things he did would be more acceptable. But he looked like a perfect if somewhat old child. He certainly behaved like one.

Before she could reply he had whirled across the room, tossed her a poker and the clang of metal meeting metal shattered the relatively peaceful (for Teatime and Susan) atmosphere.

Death didn't even bother to go and see what was going on until he heard the screams. He wondered what Susan had done to that poor boy (Death had not consulted reality about Teatime).

**There. Chapter 6 ends on a cliff-hanger. The more reviews I get the quicker I'll write (I'm sorry, that's just the way I am). But whatever happens I WILL update, even it takes me forever to write the next chapter. I don't abandon fics. **


	7. Chapter 7

**I **_**think **_**this is the final chapter, although you never know. Unless I get a few more ideas however, it is, because a fic can't be **_**all **_**poker fights and banter. Enjoy anyway.**

In fact Teatime hadn't screamed. He had yelped. Susan had, unusually, actually landed a blow. This would not have been a cause for anything but laughter on his part, had the poker not caught his glass eye.

'Susan that was _most _impolite.' He said this as he fumbled around the fireplace searching for the lost orb.

Susan didn't know whether to be amused or ashamed by the whole episode. She decided that neutral was probably the best she could do. Then she remembered when he had almost concussed her with a poker.

'Unless it's dangerous it's no fun. You taught me that.'

Teatime looked up, missing eye found and back in place. Triumph danced across his face. 'So I _am _teaching you something.'

Susan groaned. 'Teatime that was _irony.'_

'Oh. Meaning a conveyance of meaning through the use of a situation or words which normally means the oppositein order to be humorous or emphasise a point. Of course I understand the concept, but I have never seen it in action, really.'

Susan put her head in her hands. Which was when Death came in.

WHAT HAS BEEN GOING ON? I HEARD A SCREAM. Death glanced at the immaculate chess board, Susan who had raised her head, and Teatime who was standing with his poker-wielding hands behind his back, looking as innocent as a child whilst being as dangerous as a nuclear reactor that really wants to see what critical mass is like.

'Sorry sir, that was me. I...stubbed my toe.'

Susan glared at him for telling such a _stupid _lie.

AH. Death tried to look puzzled. WHERE HAVE THE POKERS GONE? IT'S NOT LIKE ALBERT EVEN TO _TOUCH _THEM. NOT UNLESS HIS BREAKFAST HAS GOT REALLY OUT OF HAND. Death shrugged. IF YOU SEE THEM WOULD YOU MIND REPLACING THEM. He left.

Susan turned to Teatime. 'Why did you tell him that? If he was any good with humans at all he'd have known you were lying.'

Teatime tried to look innocent, surprisingly successfully. Childish faces are _built _for innocence. 'I could hardly tell him that you had "accidentally" dislodged my eye with a poker. You say he's no good at humanity. Do you really think he needs to try and understand _that_? Virtually everyone would have difficultly understanding that.'

'Not us.'

'Well...we have been educated, haven't we? We've taught each other. You _killed _me. I've irritated you. I've never met anyone I've had so much fun with.'

'Are you going to say something hopeless, illogical and stupid now, Teatime, like someone would say in a romantic novel?' _Please don't mention love. _For some reason that thought rose in Susan's head. It was ridiculous. Clearly. They didn't love each other. They were just in it for the torment.

'Actually I was going to ask you whether you'd prefer a game of chess or another round with the pokers?'

Susan considered it, but only for a second. Then she grabbed a poker and swung it round in a vicious sweep reminiscent of Death's scythe. It would have severely injured Teatime, if he hadn't moved impossibly fast to evade it.

'Susan, normality doesn't need either of us.'

_It doesn't want us though. But somehow that doesn't matter so much anymore._

Susan smiled as the pair of pokers whirled through the air in a metallic display of speed, cunning and elegance.


End file.
